


(she'll destroy with) her sweet kiss

by partialresonance



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Anal Sex, Choking, Damereyux - Freeform, Dark Rey (Star Wars), Dubious Consent, Empress Rey (Star Wars), F/M, Force Choking (Star Wars), Gingerpilot, Hux and Rey constantly threaten to kill each other, It gets more consent-y as it goes, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Poe thinks it's cute, Republic husbands Poe and Hux, Rey's implied backstory is kind of sad, Sith Rey (Star Wars), Threesome - F/M/M, Touch-Starved Rey (Star Wars), but just to be safe, canon age differences, implied loss of virginity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:14:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28038258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/partialresonance/pseuds/partialresonance
Summary: “What do you want from us, Empress?” Poe blinks up at her, and Rey thinks that he already knows. The way he tilts his head, curls barely brushing against her bare arm—it could be an accident, or it could be her answer. Her smile is slow, wide, baring white little teeth.---------Empress Rey satiates her boredom and curiosity with two Republic prisoners, who happen to be married.
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Rey, Poe Dameron/Armitage Hux, Poe Dameron/Armitage Hux/Rey, Poe Dameron/Rey
Comments: 7
Kudos: 37





	(she'll destroy with) her sweet kiss

**Author's Note:**

> Be gentle, I've only ever written m/m smut so this is very new territory for me.
> 
> I honestly had no idea how to tag this. If you're at all affected by prisoner dubcon situations then close the tab. Let me know if I should add any other tags.

It’s another boring day in her perfect Empire when her guards deposit the two Republic prisoners at her feet.

“Empress,” the red-armored guard steps back, bowing at the waist. “These two were apprehended attempting to sabotage your capital ship.”

“So?” She rolls her eyes. If it’s not one thing, it’s the other with the Republic, but their paltry little forays into her territory can never truly threaten the might of her Empire.

“You expressed your wish to interrogate the next Republic prisoner personally.”

Ah, yes. She had almost forgotten.

Idle curiosity and, frankly, boredom had driven the request, but she still doesn’t know why there are two prisoners in front of her when she had only asked for one.

“Take one of them away and execute them, I don’t care which.”

Instantly, there is shouting from both of the men at her feet, and her guard steps forward with an apologetic look as Rey slaps a Force gag on the both of them.

“Apologies, your Highness. We attempted to separate them but they made it clear they were willing to injure themselves in their effort to stay together, and we feared causing harm to your property.”

Of course, her guards are too cowed to risk her wrath. But Rey’s curiosity is piqued, now, as she casts a glance over the two again. Indeed, they look a little worse for the wear despite her guards’ attempts to be careful with them, their hair in disarray, clothing torn in places and blood drying in the cloth. A dark bruise mars the paler one’s skin at his temple.

“We believe they are a mated pair. Married, your Highness.”

_Oh._ Now _that_ is interesting indeed.

Rey waves the guards away, and they retreat from the throne room until she is left alone with her prisoners.

She lets them stew in silence for a moment as she revels in the fun she might have. _Finally_ , something to break the tedium of her days. Rey flicks her finger, releasing the gags.

“Tell me.” She lifts a hand, waving it towards the two men bound at her feet. The heavy silver and black rings adorning her slim fingers gleam in the light of her throne room. “In the Republic, do they really marry for love?”

The men exchange looks. Finally, the dark-haired one lifts himself up, still on his knees but straining his head to look up at Rey. Because his hands are still bound behind his back, this has the effect of pushing his chest out towards her, and she lifts a cool eyebrow in appreciation of the sight.

“Yes, uh. Empress. I’m Poe, Poe Dameron, and this is my husband, Armitage Hux. And I do—um, I love him. Very much.” There is a not-so-subtle plea in his voice, not to harm the man that he loves, and Rey smirks. She leans her head on one hand, elbow propped up on the mirror black surface of her throne.

“How much?” She turns her hand, idling inspecting her nails. They’re long and smooth and painted with such a dark maroon that they’re nearly black, though they appear blood red in the right light. “More than your loyalty to your Republic?”

“Yes.” He answers without hesitation, and that makes Rey pause. She drops her hand to her lap, frowning and leaning forward.

“Then why did you bring him into danger? I assumed you were willing to risk his life for your cause. That isn’t the case?” She can’t keep the note of danger from her voice. It’s been a long time since anyone dared tell her she was _wrong._

“Empress.” This Poe must not be as stupid as he looks, for he ducks his head in a very good imitation of true obeisance. “I do not tell my husband what to do, or where to go. We’re partners, and we both decided to carry out this mission for the Republic. But if it came down to a choice, the Republic or him—“ Poe shoots a look at the red-haired man that makes Rey’s stomach clench up with some unidentifiable emotion. “I’d choose him. No question. His safety means everything to me. Please, Empress, I—“

“Enough.” She waves a hand before the begging can begin in earnest. There may be a time for that, yet, but she is not finished with this line of inquiry. “And you, Armitage? Would you say the same of him?”

“Yes.” Armitage has nothing of his husband’s smooth delivery; his lips are pulled back into a snarl, and the single word drips with acid. When Rey locks eyes with him, anger uncurls within her like a striking snake. _No one_ has dared look at her with such open defiance since she became Empress. With a casual flick of her wrist that belies the intensity of her anger, she uses the Force to slam him to the floor.

“You will show proper respect or I will behead you where you are.” Her voice thunders in the hall, amplified by the Force.

“Please! Empress!” Poe crouches over the other man, straining at his bonds, and she can see the outline of his muscles beneath his shirt, broad shoulders and shapely arms. She already knows what she wants to do with him, that has been evident from the moment she saw his curls and his sweet, dark eyes from across the throne room. But this other, his husband—

Armitage twists, managing to get himself back onto his knees without the use of his hands, and when he looks up at her it is with fire in his eyes, a thin stream of blood trickling from his lip and smearing against his chin. The blood is stark against his pale skin, his hair falling in disarray over his forehead, the strands a gleaming golden-orange, and that’s when she knows she will have them both.

Rey stands fluidly, her dark dress pooling around her maroon and gold-trimmed stilettos. She stalks forward, circling around Armitage and trailing a hand along his jaw. He twitches, snarling, and she can see the thought clearly in his mind as he considers biting her. It makes her laugh.

“You won’t, though, will you?” She shifts her grip and suddenly her fingers are in a vice beneath his chin, tilting his head until he is forced to look at her. “Because you’re afraid I’ll hurt _him._ You’ll both do anything I say as long as it guarantees the other’s safety.” Rey lets go, and Armitage rips his chin out of her grip, staring at the floor and breathing heavily. “You’re both very stupid for coming here together, do you know that?

“But it’s alright.” Her heels click, loud in the otherwise silent throne room, as she circles behind the two kneeling men to place a hand on Poe’s shoulder. He doesn’t flinch, and his gaze is mild when she comes around to regard him, her arm stretched around him and pressing against the back of his neck in an almost congenial half-hug. His shoulders are indeed broad; both men dwarf her, Armitage with his height and Poe with his breadth, but still all the power in the room is gathered in her tiny fist. “Because there’s something I want, and as I am a kind and magnanimous Empress I am willing to reward you handsomely for it. How does your freedom sound, in exchange for this one small thing I ask of you?”

“Too good to be true,” Armitage spits. Rey feels Poe going tense beneath her, but she just laughs. She’s starting to like the duality of these two, Armitage’s spitfire and Poe’s calculated sweetness.

“What do you want from us, Empress?” Poe blinks up at her, and Rey thinks that he already knows. The way he tilts his head, curls barely brushing against her bare arm—it could be an accident, or it could be her answer. Her smile is slow, wide, baring white little teeth.

She leads them from the throne room down a dark corridor towards her chambers.

The doors sweep open for her, her two prisoners following behind her like good little soldiers—still with their hands bound behind their backs, but only because she likes them that way, likes how it makes them a bit unsteady on their feet (and how she notes the intimacy between them, how they lean towards each other, exchanging looks, brushing shoulders in silent support). Her bedchamber is expansive, the floor carpeted in soft, luxurious red, the walls hung with heavy tapestries. Everything is dark, shades of blood-red or black, gilded. The wealth of her Empire on full display in the obscene comforts of her private space, where no one but Rey has ever tread before.

With a flick of one finger, she uses the Force to unlock the binders, and they fall from Poe and Armitage’s wrists to thud heavily to the floor. She turns her back on them to stride over to a cabinet filled with crystal goblets and the finest wines from across her sprawling Empire, and amuses herself by peaking in on their thoughts. As soon as he is released from the binders Armitage thinks of all the myriad ways he could kill her. He catalogues the various furnishings and trinkets on display, which would make the best weapon, which is in easy reach, how much time he would have to get to her before she noticed and used her Force to stop him. He comes to the correct conclusion that any such efforts would be futile, and resigns himself to waiting as she pours a dark red vintage into three glasses.

Poe, curiously, is not thinking of much at all. He’s mostly feeling—love and concern for Armitage, fear and curiosity and sadness for her. Sadness? Rey purses her painted lips and turns to them, holding one wine glass in her hand and using the Force to float the other two towards Poe and Armitage.

“I assure you, Poe,” the name falls like a single drop of blood from her lips, “You needn’t feel any sorrow on my account.”

He lifts his eyebrows, surprised that she is able to read him so easily. He plucks the wine glass from the air and holds it close to his chest, nudging Armitage to do the same when the other man hesitates, glaring daggers at the glass floating in front of him.

“Empress,” Poe begins cautiously, taking a tiny sip to mirror Rey’s. “You are clearly a wealthy and powerful woman. These chambers are impressive, as is your Empire. I guess I’m sad for you because you seem…lonely.”

Rey’s eyes widen, and she clutches her glass to still the tremble in her hand.

“I am not _lonely_.” She leans back, reclining against the low cabinet. She opens her mouth, but somehow no words leap to her mind to explain just how wrong this Republic scum is. Rey tilts her head, frustration dancing across her features. “Why do you think such a thing?”

“Well…why did you bring us here?” Poe’s eyes are wide, dark, emotive, and Rey has to look away with a sneer.

“Because I’m going to have some _fun_ with you.” She sets her goblet down and gestures angrily to the large, plush bed piled high with dark silks and pillows. “Enough talk. You know why you’re here. Both of you, over there, now.”

Poe hops to her command with a satisfying urgency, dragging his husband along with him when Armitage seems inclined to protest. They sit on the bed, angled towards each other, goblets cradled in their hands. She can feel a low level of fear and dread coming from Armitage, and resignation from Poe. She’s not sure what she wants, because suddenly it isn’t this. She doesn’t want to force their hands, she wants to see—

Rey stalks across the room, circling them again. She stops, one hip bumping out and arm crossing over her waist as she leans her weight on one leg, tapping her lips.

“Drink,” she says, waving a hand when they both just stare at her. “While I tell you exactly how this is going to go down.” She points between the both of them as they comply. “I will watch you two pleasure each other, as husbands.” Armitage chokes on his drink. “Consider your freedom as incentive for a good performance.” Her predatory smile is back as she thinks of all the ways the two men might look so pretty for her—blushing and heated with their hair in disarray, writhing together on her bed, seeking release. She has her holos and her literature, of course, but the real thing—she assumes—will be something else entirely.

“Empress,” Poe has finished his wine already, the alcohol bringing an attractive flush to his cheeks, “Perhaps things are different in the Empire, but where we come from that’s—a very private act. We’ve never—it might be difficult to do with an—an audience.”

“Pretend I’m not here, then,” she waves the concern away. _For now._

Impatience stirs within her, and she lifts her hands and snatches the goblets away with the Force, setting them on a shelf across the room. She moves again, unable to keep still with the excitement flooding her cells, going to the other end of the bed, hyperaware of the way her gown shifts against her thighs.

“Start now,” she says. “Whatever you normally do, together, as husbands who love each other. Show me.”

When neither of them move, Rey decides they must need some encouragement. She lifts a hand, threading the Force into a band around Armitage’s neck and squeezing slightly. His eyes immediately widen, and he claps a hand around his neck. Soon, his chest is heaving with labored breaths.

“Hugs!” Poe puts his hands on Armitage, at elbow and chest, and Armitage leans into him, eyes going hazy as he struggles for breath. Poe throws a scalding, panicked look at her. “ _Stop!_ Please!”

Rey releases her hold, and Armitage sags against his husband.

“You know what I want.” She stalks to the other side of the room, releasing some of the energy pent up inside of her but not enough, it’s never enough. Her gaze is dark as she regards them, hungry for something she can’t name. “Show me what you do to please each other.” _I want to know. I want to see it. I want—_

She is Empress of the known galaxy, all the riches of conquered space at her fingertips, and yet she still wants so much. It’s an irrepressible flame licking at her, burning the soles of her feet as she sits idle on her throne, the machinations of her Empire running so smoothly, such long stretches of boredom between spikes of excitement like this.

Poe and Armitage exchange another of their _looks_ , and Rey wants to scream at the purity of their understanding of each other. If she were not certain they did not have the Force, she would think they could speak to each other in their minds. Finally, with a sigh and a nod as if responding to some careful encouragement, Poe leans down and presses a gentle kiss to Armitage’s lips.

Rey goes still.

She holds her breath as Armitage flicks his gaze to her—pure hatred in his eyes now—before his expression softens as he responds to the kiss. He closes his eyes, and she can feel it now, pulsing in the Force around them, the way he surrenders entirely to Poe. Surrenders to him in a way he had not surrendered to _her_ , despite the fact that Poe represents no threat to him at all whereas Rey had been ready to end his life with a flick of her wrist.

The kiss starts out chaste, gentle, so gentle—Poe cupping Armitage’s jaw like he’s the most precious thing in the galaxy, infinitely fragile. Then he starts to move with more certainty against his husband, deepening the kiss and sliding his tongue past his lips. She can feel it, the moment when both of them break over into it, the moment Armitage thinks _fuck it, maybe she really will let us go_ and Poe thinks _love him, love him, love him so much._ Armitage’s hands clutch at Poe’s hips, and Poe’s hands move restless over Armitage’s shoulders, slipping under the collar of his shirt, pushing at the fabric.

“Go on,” Rey says, and hardly recognizes her own voice. It’s soft, breathy, as if afraid to break the fragile intimacy of the moment. “Remove his clothes.”

Poe tips his head and suddenly latches on to Armitage’s neck, sucking at the skin as he starts to unbutton his shirt. Armitage’s hips twitch, and when Rey looks down at their laps she can see evidence of their desire for each other, obvious even if she couldn’t feel it singing through the Force. Poe slides Armitage’s shirt off, slips his hands down over his narrow chest and grabs his belt, hauling Armitage into his lap. Armitage gasps, plastering himself against Poe. Rey touches her own lips, eyes riveted to the scene.

Soon Poe’s shirt is off, somehow, because they hardly break away from each other enough to breathe, like they’re trying to drink each other in. Poe urges Armitage to lay back against the pillows, presses down on top of him, starting to move with luxurious rolls of his hips that make Armitage’s eyes flutter and hands grip at Poe and the sheets. They both seem to know what to do for each other without having to ask; Armitage pulls at Poe’s hair, gently at first and then in sharp little tugs as they grind against each other. Poe moans into his lips, and brushes fingers over Armitage’s little pink nipples, peaked with arousal.

Then Poe’s hand slides up and settles around Armitage’s neck, squeezing slightly.

Rey draws in a sharp breath, and when Poe flicks his gaze up at her his eyes flash with mischief,something almost cruel.

“He likes it when I do it,” Poe throws the accusation at her feet, his voice low and husky. “He trusts me. Knows I won’t hurt him.” And indeed, Armitage writhes beneath him, tilting his chin up as Poe slides his hand up and down his neck, squeezes lightly, shifting his grip, each time drawing another breathy gasp from his husband. Poe’s eyes are cruel again when he looks at her—how had she ever thought him simple and sweet? “Has anyone ever trusted you, Empress? Or have they only ever feared you?”

“I could kill you.” Her eyes flash. A hand twitches as if aching to do just that. But Poe has already tipped his head down lick and nip at Armitage’s neck, and when he answers her it’s a confident, casual rejoinder.

“But you won’t.” He starts unbuckling Armitage’s trousers. “Not yet, anyway.” Poe shimmies the trousers down until his husband’s cock springs free, hard and full. Poe sits up slightly then, smiling down at Armitage, stroking his cock gently, far too gently to do much other than make the other man huff in impatience. “He’s beautiful, isn’t he, Empress?”

She has to admit, he is. Armitage is slender, his skin a delicate shade of ivory blushing pink all over, a light spray of freckles across his shoulders and golden curls at the base of his cock. He’s looking at Poe like Poe is the only person in the galaxy, and Rey knows that part of it is spite—refusing to acknowledge her interloping presence—but mostly it is genuine. He would look at Poe this way no matter what, has looked at Poe this way countless times before, will look at Poe this way until the day he dies.

“How do you want it, baby?” Poe strokes his hair, kisses his temple. “Whatever you want.”

Armitage pulls him down and, in a gesture that even Rey would classify as achingly sweet, whispers into his ear. Her hearing enhanced by the Force, she hears him say “ _I want to be inside you_ ,” and her heart beats wildly in anticipation. Poe nods, kisses him with a hard press against his lips, then looks up at her. The sweetness is back, left over from the way he’d looked at his husband.

“Empress, we require something to, ah—ease the way.” His smile is tilted, roguish and charming, and Rey is quick to summon the bottle to her hand. She steps closer to the bed to hand it to him, and their fingers brush. She bites her lip.

“Thank you.” Poe smiles, and looks her up and down. Rey knows she how she looks—beautiful, terrifying, entranced. Pupils dilated and cheeks flushed, unable to tear herself away fromthe bedside. Poe flicks his gaze down to Armitage, who levers himself up on his elbows, staring defiantly up at her despite his debauched state, trousers around his knees and pre-come glistening on the head of his cock that is as pretty as the rest of him. “Empress, would you…like to join us?”

Rey sits on the bed as if her knees had given out.

One hand holds her up, pressing in to the luxurious softness of her bed while the other wanders over the sheets, stretching towards them.

“I—“ she begins, suddenly bereft of words, her Empire and her Force powers and the darkness always raging within her far from her mind. “I want—“

Poe cups a hand around the back of her head, fingers threading in to her dark hair, and pulls her forward into a kiss.

Rey’s eyes fall shut, overwhelmed by the moment. Every bit of skin Poe touches lights up like a circuit board, flooding her senses until she can think of nothing else but the press of his lips against hers. It’s good. It’s _very_ good. She imitates the way Poe moves his lips, the kiss deepening into something she could lose herself in. When Poe pulls away, Rey leans forward, chasing the sensation until she has to put a hand to the bed to keep herself upright. When she opens her eyes, Poe is looking at her with a truly rakish grin. Armitage rolls his eyes and sits up fully, taking Poe’s head in both hands and turning him so he can capture his husband’s lips in another long kiss.

Rey watches, traces a finger over her lips.

Eventually, Poe pushes back with a little sigh, rubbing his nose against Armitage’s before turning back to Rey. He reaches out and fingers the strap of her gown, and a shiver runs straight down her spine.

“May I?”

Rey nods.

Poe gently slides the straps off of her shoulders, brushing her skin with his knuckles. He’s careful, taking his time in undressing her, and Rey feels herself responding to his touch—breath quickening, pushing her chest out towards him when the gown slips down over her breasts, a relentless heat building between her thighs. Armitage comes up to plaster himself behind Poe, chest to Poe’s back and legs straddling him as he nuzzles at his husband’s neck, every now and then shooting a challenging glare at Rey that only serves to excite her more.

Finally, her dress is open and pooling around her thighs, and she shifts to slide it down over her legs and push it off the bed, letting the airy material slither to the floor. She’s entirely naked now except for her rings and the thick rope-like metal necklace that lies against her collarbones. Armitage has already kicked off his own trousers, and Poe chuckles as he follows suit. The air feels chilly all of a sudden, as she sits in her bed on top of the blankets, and goosebumps peak her skin.

Poe reaches out, wrapping a hand around her arm and pulling her into his embrace.

“There,” he says, “now we’re all settled.”

Rey is speechless. There’s so much _skin_ , smooth and warm against her. As she looks up at Poe, her head tilts and her cheek brushes against his chest, and she can’t stop herself from nuzzling in to the sensation, eyelids flickering briefly shut as she lets out a sigh.

“Can I—?” Her hand wanders along Poe’s thighs towards his cock—a surprisingly darker shade than Armitage’s, a slight difference in size and shape. She isn’t used to asking for things, simply taking them instead—

But she finds that she wants to ask. For now, she tells herself, she’ll play along.

Poe chuckles.

“Yeah.” He kisses the top of her head, then wraps one arm around Armitage as Rey begins to touch him, hesitant at first, feeling the shape and weight of him in her hand. As she gains confidence, she grips him a little more firmly and strokes the velvety length of him. Poe takes in a sharp breath, and his response sends a spike of arousal through her. Poe groans, leaning his head to the side until his lips press against Armitage’s neck.

“You two,” Poe pants, grinning as Rey strokes him and his thighs twitch, stomach clenching in pleasure. “Will you two kiss, for me?” Armitage makes a disagreeable sound, and Poe moans as he seeks out his husbands lips, kissing him sloppily and then murmuring, “Please, baby? Be good for me?”

“Alright.” Armitage shifts towards her, and Rey finds her mouth is already open in anticipation. Her hand stills as she gets her first taste of Armitage, his kiss immediately different from Poe’s—less sweet, more urgent and biting, and she struggles to keep up with him even as the thrill of it makes her ache for more. Armitage grabs the back of her neck, fingers digging in as he breaks away from the kiss but stays close, so close she can feel his breath on her cheek.

“You’re nothing but a spoiled little princess,” Armitage hisses in her ear before taking the lobe between his teeth and biting down, almost too hard. His words enrage her, but he feels so good against her overheated skin, teeth tugging and cool hand sliding down her arm and she moans.

Poe’s hand is suddenly pressing against her stomach and sliding down, and Rey nods, frantic now for more sensation, more pleasure, _more_ of the both of them. Poe rubs over her, the space right between her thighs, and Rey rocks against him. When he slips a finger between her folds and presses against her clit, Rey shudders, her cunt throbbing with sudden, fierce need.

“ _Yes.”_ She hisses, pulling at Poe, lips finding Armitage’s again and mouth opening for his probing tongue. Poe’s finger is moving in delicious circles around her clit and Rey feels herself drawing to her peak quickly, so quickly she only has time to gasp and shudder against the both of them, riding out an orgasm that had blindsided her.

“So soon, princess?” Armitage’s voice is taunting against her lips, but Rey can’t find it in herself to be angry. She catches her breath and her composure, a cat-like smile spreading across her face as relief and release floods her veins with warmth. Moving across them with slow, dragging motions, Rey lays herself out against the pillows and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, still catching her breath. She waves a hand, languid and sated. For now.

“Go on, then. Your turn.” She grabs the bottle from a nearby pillow and tosses it to Poe, who catches it in two hands. Poe presses the bottle into Armitage’s hand, kissing his knuckles.

Poe arranges himself on all fours before his husband, and Rey finds herself entranced by his lines—the muscles in his back, his frankly beautiful ass that Armitage grips with strong fingers digging in to the supple flesh. Armitage spreads the oil on his fingers, and his look of determination as he starts to work them into his husband is hypnotic. Rey finds herself biting her lip as she watches Armitage slowly open Poe up, Poe’s eyes falling shut, cheeks flushed and mouth open in a fragile little _‘o_ ’ as he grips the sheets with shaking fingers.

Almost immediately Rey feels her desire stir again. Poe starts rocking back onto Armitage’s fingers, and Armitage holds him steady with a bruising grip on his side, sometimes sweeping his hand in a more gentle caress against the lovely canvas of his bare skin. And though he is not the direct recipient of any attentions at the moment, her eyes are drawn again and again to Armitage—his lean form bent over his husband, his cock pressed to the back of Poe’s thigh, his look of hunger. She peeks into his mind, and to her surprise finds a steady stream of thoughts directed at her.

_See what I do for him? See how much he enjoys it? I would do anything for this man. He owns me, completely, and that’s something you’ll never have with him. Are you enjoying this, princess? If you go back on your deal to free us after this, I’ll tear out your throat._

“Ha!” Rey throws back her head, excitement rushing down her spine and curling her toes as she shares Armitage’s bloody thoughts. He throws his gaze to her, pupils dilated and mouth open as he sucks in heaving breaths, trembling with unsated need. He withdraws his fingers slowly from Poe, and Poe whimpers.

“Baby, please…”

“I’ve got you.” Armitageleans down to drop a kiss to the small of Poe’s back, then lines up his cock and pushes in slowly, drawing a long, low moan from Poe. Armitage’s breath skitters out, fingers twitching in their grip on either side of Poe’s hips, feeding his husband his cock in a single relentless slide until he is seated fully inside of him, petting his back and whispering soft encouragements. How Armitage can be so soft with Poe, while also fully considering sinking his teeth into Rey’s throat, is a wonder.

Rey is so preoccupied watching the way they move together that she fails to anticipate Poe reaching out and hooking an arm under her knees. In one swift motion he pulls her to him, her breathing punching out of her lungs as he opens her legs and starts kissing the sensitive skin on the inside of her thighs, up and down in little rows approaching and then receding from where she needs his touch the most.

When Armitage rocks into Poe, Poe moans, and his breath fans out over her cunt, and Rey’s head tips back until she’s looking at the decadently star-strewn ceiling of her chambers, her hands clutching at the sheets to either side of her, needing something to ground her as every cell in her body sings with arousal.

“Oh,” she says, as Poe presses his tongue to her clit. “ _Ohhh_. Ah! Yes!”

Poe groans.

“Armie,” his voice is pitched high as Armitage starts slamming into him, rocking Poe forward into Rey. “Yes,” another thrust, “please,” and again, “ _right there!”_

The two men pick up their rhythm, and somehow Poe still gives Rey the best tongue-fucking of her life. She comes again as Poe teases at her clit with his slick tongue, but her need doesn’t abate, the heat still coursing within her as he continues licking at her.

“Fuck,” she whines, feeling another orgasm coiling within her, “fuck, fuck!”

Armitage’s eyes are riveted to Poe, where his head is buried between Rey’s thighs. He lets out a groan, stuttering forward, and at the same moment he and Rey both cry out,

_“Poe_.”

“Ah!” Poe convulses, spilling come onto the sheets between Rey’s splayed feet, holding on to her for dear life as his husband fucks into him from behind. “Ah! Yes, _kriff_.” Then a long moan before he dips his tongue back into Rey, bringing her to the crashing peak of another orgasm. Armitage thrusts into Poe one final time before breaking, burying himself deep inside his husband as he falls forward, trembling and whimpering as his orgasm tears through him.

Poe groans as he finally lifts himself up enough to collapse onto Rey’s stomach, wrapping his arms in a vice grip around her middle and squirming deliciously into the sheets. Armitage, panting from the exertion, pulls himself out and then collapses on top of Poe, raining kisses across his back. Rey threads her fingers into Poe’s curls, her limbs heavy as a blissful, satisfied warmth floods her entire being.

They lay that way for a long time. Poe is the first to move; he turns over and opens his arms for Armitage, who crawls into an embrace with such an open display of affection that Rey feels something within her unlock. Even after all of that, she thinks, _this_ is truly what she had yearned to see. Poe kisses the top of his head, stroking his hair and telling him that he was so good, so careful with him, made him feel amazing.

Tears prick Rey’s eyes. Angry, she swipes a knuckles across her cheek and turns over, drawing her legs up and moving to leave the bed.

Poe catches her by the wrist.

“Come here, Empress,” he says, opening his arms for her as well. “This is the part I like the most.”

Rey’s eyes dart to the side as she considers leaving the bed and dressing, throwing these two out of her chambers. But then she sighs, and shrugs.

“Fine.” She wiggles into Poe’s embrace, laying her head on his chest—where Armitage also rests, in the crook of Poe’s other arm, their faces inches apart now. Poe’s arms hook around the both of them, and she can feel him placing a kiss to the top of her head, then nuzzling into Armitage’s hair with a contented sigh.

Armitage glares at her, and Rey smirks, resisting the childish urge to stick out her tongue.

Rey is flanked by two of her Imperial guards when she sees Poe and Armitage off. She ushers them onto a fast, capable ship, her expression bored as she watches them go. She wears a similar gown to the one from the day before, dark and sleek and gleaming. Her fortress is solid, impenetrable, hidden from Republic eyes by the Force, and as she turns to go her heels click on the spotless floors, her guards fall into flawless formation around her, and she gathers power to her as she has since coming into her birthright years ago. Her guards will talk, she knows—talk about how she let two Republic prisoners go, curious as to why the bloodthirsty Empress had merely played with her food.

She smirks to herself, remembering the night before, her cunning mind already turning over her plans.


End file.
